


Frozen Over

by strwbrryklly



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Recovery, Shimada Clan, Team as Family, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strwbrryklly/pseuds/strwbrryklly
Summary: Genji came to him late in the spring, on the anniversary of his own murder, and spoke of honour and redemption as if Hanzo was capable of any of these things. He was nothing like the Genji that Hanzo had once known; his restless energy subdued in the decade since they’d last met. But upon seeing his dragon, seeing his eyes, Hanzo recognised the fire that burned bright in his brother, relentless and passionate even towards someone who was not deserving of it. The feeling of a blade to his throat and his brother’s steel hand on his shoulder had chilled Hanzo to the core, and Genji left him with no resentment of the past or expectations for the future – only forgiveness, and peace, and a simple request.Follow him.--For the Hanzo Goes to Therapy Zine
Relationships: Genji Shimada & Hanzo Shimada, Hanzo Shimada & Mei-Ling Zhou, Hanzo Shimada & Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Frozen Over

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone!!
> 
> here's my piece for the hanzo goes to therapy zine!! this is the first zine i have ever participated in, and i'm so happy with how my both my fic and the zine in general turned out. congratulations to everyone who was a part of it, and thank you if you bought it!!

“That’s it?”

Hanzo lowered his bow turned towards his cousin, surprised. “What?”

The winter air around him chilled him to the bone, but his muscles burned with exertion. Around him, every target had an arrow piercing the centre. His training session had gone perfectly, even in the snow, and yet somehow his partner wasn’t satisfied.

His cousin scoffed, rolling eyes. “You just shot at a bunch of still targets. Have you ever tried something _moving_? Tried something _living_?”

Hanzo frowned at his training partner. “I’m not old enough to be sent on assignments yet.”

“Oh, come _on_ , Hanzo.” His cousin sneered. “I’ve been hunting since I was eight. You know what the elders say, right? _Killing is all a Shimada is made for. Everything other than that is unnecessary_.”

“I know,” Hanzo answered tersely. “But my father—”

“Look!” His cousin interrupted him, pointing to the cherry blossom trees at the edge of the perimeter. Hanzo spotted a small squirrel among the branches, mysteriously out of hibernation.

His cousin grinned at him. “Shoot that.”

“What? No!”

“Shoot it.” His cousin goaded, narrowing his eyes. “Unless you’re too scared to.”

Hanzo grit his teeth. “I’m not scared,” he bit out, fire rising hot and angry in his chest.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not scared!”

“Then _shoot it_ ,” his cousin repeated. “A Shimada is born to draw blood. What are you if you can’t do that? You’re not worthy of the name!”

Blood roaring in his ears, Hanzo let out a furious shout. Out of the corner of his eye the squirrel startled, and Hanzo pulled an arrow from his quiver and sent it flying before he realised what he was doing.

His cousin cheered, and the anger drained from Hanzo immediately, replaced with shock.

The squirrel dropped to the ground, and Hanzo dropped to his knees.

He had done nothing different. He had taken an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, drew back, and released. Perfect shot.

So why was he finding it so hard to breathe?

His cousin clapped him on the back but Hanzo ignored him, preoccupied by the feeling of the world closing in on him. His body seemed to shrink around him, ribcage tight and trapping him inside himself when his heart was trying to burst out.

He dug his hands into the snow underneath him, more of it melting and soaking into his pants. The cold creeped up his body as hot tears dripped onto the ground, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. Air filled his lungs, harsh and icy, and combined with his legs sunken into the snow, his head began to clear, the cold taking away the racing thoughts until all he could think about was how freezing cold he was.

Shivering, Hanzo looked up to see his cousin standing over him, smirking. “And you said you weren’t scared.”

* * *

Hanzo joined Overwatch in the summer.

Genji came to him late in the spring, on the anniversary of his own murder, and spoke of honour and redemption as if Hanzo was capable of any of these things. He was nothing like the Genji that Hanzo had once known; his restless energy subdued in the decade since they’d last met. But upon seeing his dragon, seeing his _eyes_ , Hanzo recognised the fire that burned bright in his brother, relentless and passionate even towards someone who was not deserving of it. The feeling of a blade to his throat and his brother’s steel hand on his shoulder had chilled Hanzo to the core, and Genji left him with no resentment of the past or expectations for the future – only forgiveness, and peace, and a simple request.

_Follow him._

It was incredibly uncomfortable in Overwatch – the stares of the other agents, the whispers that went silent when he entered the room and rose up as soon as he left. Everybody here knew Genji, _adored_ Genji, and for his sake everyone was trying to be respectful to Hanzo. He gave them his dedication in return: exemplary work on missions, putting his utmost focus into training simulations, completing any chores he was given around the Watchpoint. He decided very early on to make it easier for everyone by staying away whenever he could – he had lived the last ten years of his life in solitude, and could continue to, even as the world kept turning around him. The only visitors to his room were Genji, Zenyatta, and Winston – one with attempts to reconcile, one with attempts to bring him _inner peace_ , and one with orders for training and missions. He gave nobody any reason to doubt him.

With summer’s heat and humidity also came the horrors of Hanzo’s mind. Nightmares that abated somewhat in the colder months came back as Gibraltar grew warmer. The air was stifling, making it hard for Hanzo to think, and he dreaded going to bed every night, knowing what his mind was going to show him.

_Blood_. Dripping hot down his neck, his chest, his thighs, joining the swelling puddle on the ground. The source lay at his feet, mangled and barely human. The heat of Hanzo’s rage faded as his sword clattered to the ground to lie beside his brother.

Hanzo woke with a start. Blood still covered him from head to toe - trickling down his forehead and making his palms slippery. He lurched forward, scrambling up and out of bed, and stumbling to his bathroom to wash it all off. He glanced up at the mirror above the sink, terrified of what he’d see, and found his reflection damp but clean.

Hanzo sighed, grabbing the hand towel next to the sink and wiping his brow of the sweat drying on his skin. He took a few deep breaths, trying to slow his pounding heart to little avail after falling for his mind’s tricks once again. After giving the rest of his body a quick wipe down he left, slipping out into the hallway and towards the mess hall.

Dr Ziegler had come to him last week, offering him a referral to a therapist. “The people I know work with Overwatch agents, both old and new. They’re very discreet, and have decades of experience between them. Therapy could help you adjust, come to terms with your past and reconcile with your brother.”

He’d denied her offer then, but making it to the kitchen with the picture of his gaunt reflection in his bathroom mirror still in his mind, and the phantom feeling of blood on his skin, he thought that maybe he might need it after all.

What he really needed _right now_ , however, was a cup of tea.

Taking a mug out of the overhead cupboard, Hanzo heard the shuffling of footsteps behind him and froze. There was a soft gasp; tightening his grip on his mug he turned towards the noise.

Across from him, he found Mei locked in a similar state of deer-in-the-headlights surprise. Neither moved toward or away from the other, instead watching and waiting apprehensively for the other to make a move, sizing each other up in their respectively vulnerable moments.

Mei brought her hand up to her mouth as she yawned, breaking the tense silence, and Hanzo finally realised how ridiculous he must look, standing rigid in a stalemate with his tiny teammate. Reluctantly Hanzo put down his mug (what was he going to use it for, anyway? A shield against a 5-foot woman in her pyjamas?). His voice was hoarse as he managed a tentative “hello”.

Mei’s shoulders dropped an inch. “Do you mind if I make some tea as well?”

Hanzo stepped aside to allow her access to the kettle. “Go ahead.”

Mei’s face broke into a thankful smile as she made her way over the counter, taking the kettle and pouring some boiled water into her mug. After the initial standoff, she looked almost completely comfortable around him, and Hanzo forced his own muscles to relax. He had only talked to Mei a few times – she usually stayed in her lab, and was rarely deployed on missions. She was polite and sweet, and held her own in combat. She was a teammate. There was nothing to be scared of here.

After making their tea in silence, Mei turned around to lean her back against the counter.

“So,” she ventured hesitantly. “Why are you here?”

Hanzo startled, chest still tight. “What?”

Mei huffed a quiet giggle. “There’s two reasons why anyone comes here so late at night. Either something’s woken you up from your sleep or you haven’t been able to sleep at all.”

“You’ve seen other people around here?”

Mei nodded. “Just about everyone, from time to time. I’m the only regular though. Most people stay in their quarters, but my research lab is closer to the mess hall than my room.”

She sighed, taking her mug and sliding down onto the kitchen floor. Hanzo stared as she sipped her tea and smiled up at him.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“I like the cold.” Mei shrugged. “Plus, I have tea!”

She patted the floor beside him, and Hanzo reluctantly followed her down.

They both took a sip in the gentle silence before Mei spoke again. “You didn’t answer my question, you know.”

“Hm?”

“Why are you here?”

Hanzo swallowed, heat rising to his cheeks. Did he really want to air out his weaknesses to a woman he barely knew? “I’d rather not say.”

Mei nodded. “I understand. I didn’t want to talk about Antarctica after it happened. It’s…” Her shoulders slumped. “It’s why I don’t sleep much now. I don’t like it very much.”

Hanzo had heard very little about Mei’s time in Antarctica, and if she hadn’t pushed him to talk, he would do the same. “I am sorry that happened to you.”

They fell back into the quiet. As Hanzo had suspected, it was freezing sitting on the tiled floor, a strong contrast to the warmth of the air and the tea he was drinking, but as the cold seeped through his clothes and into his skin, the rapid beating of his heart began to slow. Mei hummed a tune beside him, and he closed his eyes, soaking up the calm that fell over him.

They stayed like that for a while, until Mei stood up and offered her hand, and he followed her, rinsing their cups in comfortable silence before bidding each other farewell.

Sinking back into bed, the summer heat didn’t feel as oppressive as it had before.

* * *

Hanzo took up Angela’s offer, and was coaxed out of his solitude in the coming months. The weather cooled and Hanzo’s nightmares started to recede, and he began to do things with the rest of the team outside training and missions. Genji was over the moon about it, and the others were slowly warming up to him – especially Mei, who he joined for tea and idle conversation on the kitchen floor whenever sleep evaded him.

Winter came, and Hanzo found himself battling the freezing cold with his team after a mission in Switzerland, with activity having been recorded around the old Overwatch base. To avoid anyone following them after their search of the ruined building, they travelled halfway across the country to a safehouse in the middle of nowhere, trudging through the thick snow when their rented vehicle could not manage the rest of the journey through the wilderness. While larger than many other hideouts Hanzo had stayed in, it was still incredibly cramped for five people, especially when one of those people was Reinhardt, a man larger than life and the rest of his teammates.

With the rest of the team huddled around the fireplace, Genji explored the cabin to return triumphantly holding up a tattered deck of cards. They went through every game they could think of – Poker, Old Maid, Crazy Eights, even a few rounds of Snap, which ended abruptly when Reinhardt nearly crushed Angela’s hand. They were onto playing Bullshit, which, like Poker and Old Maid, was a very difficult game to play when Genji was wearing a literal mask. Instead of focusing on faces, Hanzo found it easier to track the cards, and when he called bullshit on Hana for a fourth time, she threw her head back dramatically and groaned.

Sitting cross-legged beside him, Genji chuckled. “How did you know _again_ , brother?”

Hanzo shrugged. “I have two of the jacks, and I know that Angela has another. The last had to be with either you, Reinhardt, or Hana.”

Genji shook his head and clapped a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Who would have thought, the great Shimada Hanzo playing with friends? The clan would have called it scandalous!”

He laughed to himself, and Hanzo went still.

On his right, Angela set her card on the floor to start a new pile, and Hanzo could feel everyone’s eyes on him, waiting for him to add to it.

What _was_ he doing here? They’d just completed a mission, and here he was, sitting on the floor of the safehouse playing games like a child. Genji’s hand slid off his shoulder, the fireplace blazing beside him, and Hanzo suddenly became painfully aware of the heat settling heavy on his skin. He tried to take a breath to calm himself, but felt nothing but warmth filling his lungs and trying to suffocate him. He had to get out of this place of sweltering heat and watchful eyes. He had to _do something_.

He dropped his cards and got to his feet. “Play on without me.”

“Brother?”

Hanzo scrambled for an excuse. “We’re completely unprotected out here. One of us should keep watch.”

“Hanzo, nobody’s going to follow us here.” Angela tried to reassure him.

“Anyone would die trying to reach us in this weather!” Reinhardt added.

Hanzo walked to the front door, grabbing his bow and quiver from where he’d left it before going to leave. “Death hasn’t stopped Talon before,” he answered darkly, walking out and shutting the door behind him.

Immediately he was met with a rush of cold air hitting his face, and he tried not to shiver. His face burned with shame, but as the cold enveloped him and turn his blood to ice, he felt his chest begin to loosen. This was where he was meant to be.

The peace didn’t last long as he heard someone else step outside. “What do you want, brother?”

“You don’t want to be out here, really,” Genji said, and Hanzo felt a stab in his gut as his brother went to stand beside him. “I know you better than you might think. You’re allowed to have fun, you know.”

The cold piercing his skin didn’t stop the red-hot anger bubbling inside him, making its way to the surface. His family’s words rung in his ears.

_Killing is all a Shimada is made for. Everything other than that is unnecessary._

“Don’t,” he warned.

Genji ignored him. “The clan doesn’t control us anymore, Hanzo,” he pushed. “We’re free, and have been for ages now. You’re allowed to be happy.”

The coil wound inside him snapped, and Hanzo whirled on him, eyes ablaze. “You do not tell me what I am and am not _allowed_ to do,” he snarled.

Genji took a step back. Blood rushed hot in Hanzo’s ears, and he slumped, turning away from his brother.

“Leave me alone,” he murmured, barely audible over the icy wind whipping around them.

“No,” Genji said, and Hanzo groaned, resting his forehead on the wall.

“Genji—”

“You are more than a Shimada,” his brother said. “You are more than an assassin, or an agent of Overwatch. You are more than your duty, and your honour.”

He tentatively moved closer again, nudging the bow in Hanzo’s hand. He wrapped his hands around it, and tugged gently. “You are more than the weapons you wield, and the people you’ve killed, and the people you _can_ kill.”

With a sigh, Hanzo released his grip on his bow, and Genji held it close to his chest and held out his other hand.

“Come back inside, Hanzo,” he said. “Play games. Make friends. Relax. Have _fun_.”

_Killing is all a Shimada is made for._

_Killing is all a Shimada is made for._

_Killing is all a Shimada is made for._

_Killing—_

Hanzo took his hand.

_Follow him._

* * *

Hanzo heard a knock on his door and frowned. Why was someone here? He was running late to dinner, everyone else would be already be there, and he was dreading what he’d be greeted with when he arrived. Maybe Genji came to check up on him.

He was partially right, as he opened the door to Genji’s grinning face with his hands behind his back, Mei standing next to him with an equally bright smile.

“Hanzo!” She exclaimed. “You never told me?”

Hanzo shot Genji a withering look, and his brother shrugged, his grin growing ever-wider.

“She wanted to know. I know you’re not a fan of big parties, but I thought at least _someone_ else should know.”

“Happy birthday!” Mei cheered, holding out a small parcel to him.

He hesitated a moment before taking the gift, feeling the unusual shape through the wrapping. It was small enough to fit into the palm of his hand, and he could take no guess of what it was as he carefully unwrapped it.

Looking right at the little device, he still didn’t know what it was. He gave Mei a questioning glance, and she giggled.

“I made it,” she explained. “Genji told me that the cold can help you calm down when you’re not doing well, and he thought—”

“You told her that too?” Hanzo asked with another glare in his brother’s direction, his cheeks hot with embarrassment.

“He thought I could help,” Mei ignored his interruption. “So, using the technology similar to that of my own field weapons, you do _this_ …”

She reached forward and clicked a tiny button on the device. It hissed quietly, before suddenly cooling in his hand. Hanzo gasped.

“Whenever you’re doing bad, just press the button.” She said proudly, then gave him a cheeky nudge. “Now you don’t have to walk out into sub-zero temperatures anymore.”

Hanzo stared at the device, before turning it off and slipping it into his pocket. “Thank you, Mei,” he said hoarsely, and she leaped forward to give him a hug, which he returned awkwardly.

“Wait, that’s not the only gift we’ve got!” Genji exclaimed, producing another, larger wrapped present from behind him. Mei stepped back and let Hanzo take it, opening it quickly.

He raised it to his face, eyeing it suspiciously. “A plant pot.”

“Zenyatta had the idea a while ago to have a personal garden in the hydroponics lab where Winston grows all his bananas.” Genji said. “Almost everyone has a plant or two in there we all look after, I forgot to tell you about it when you arrived.”

A plant. A life other than his own that Hanzo would have to be responsible for.

“What if I kill it?” He asked, looking past the pot to Genji.

His brother chuckled. “Maybe it’ll be good for you to focus on nurturing a life instead of ending one.”

“Nurture…” Hanzo echoed, smile playing at his lips. “Do you mean the plant’s life or mine?”

Mei laughed and Genji shrugged again, his smile softening as he moved in to hug Hanzo himself. “Both.”

* * *

Jetlag from a mission kept Hanzo up until nearly sunrise, doing target practice in the training room to try and tire himself out. While his body was worn out from the exercise, his head was racing, and in a final attempt to make himself sleepy he began his trek across the Watchpoint to the mess hall with his fingers crossed that Reinhardt wasn’t up early to cook breakfast for the rest of the team.

He heard gentle footsteps in the kitchen and slowed his own pace. It was five in the morning, and even Mei would have gone to bed by now. He turned the corner into the mess hall and locked eyes with the startled agent in the kitchen.

Satya Vaswani was Overwatch’s latest recruit. After helping dissolve Vishkar from the inside out, she had taken Winston’s invitation to join their ranks, and while she lived and worked on her hard-light technology at the Watchpoint, she was seen very little outside of missions, keeping to herself and avoiding most other agents. Seeing her in a communal area was an especially rare sight, and both of them knew it. She had probably thought it was a safe spot at this time.

“I will not be long,” she said stiffly. “I’ll leave after I make my tea.”

“No,” Hanzo refused, and Satya’s raised eyebrows were the only indication of her surprise. “You do not have to leave because of me.”

Satya watched as he approached the kitchen, assessing him with her sharp gaze. She seemed to find nothing suspicious about him, and responded with a resigned _as you wish_ as she pulled out a chair at the closest table and sat down.

As he went about making himself a drink, Hanzo could still feel eyes burning into the back of his head. Both him and Satya were completely silent, but the white noise that played in his ears made his muscles tense on instinct. He slipped a hand into the pocket of his pants, and wrapped his fingers around Mei’s tiny device. The instant it activated and the chill met his skin, he closed his eyes in relief.

After he finished making the tea, he took it over to Satya’s table and set it down. “May I sit here?”

She nodded her unsure assent.

They took a sip of their tea at the same time, eyeing each other warily across the table. Hanzo did not know much about Satya Vaswani, but he could gain a lot of insight in her precise and deliberate movements, not unlike his own. He also knew from what other agents said that she was extremely intelligent, incredibly creative, strikingly beautiful, and stubborn to the point of arrogance which earned her no favours among the rest of the team.

Hana had nudged him last week and told him she reminded her of someone.

“How are you finding your time at Overwatch?” he asked, taking both of them by surprise.

Satya set down her mug. “I did not take you as one for small talk.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Understandable.”

Silence fell over them again, not as harsh as it had been however, with Satya visibly settling more into her seat. Hanzo went back to focusing on his tea.

“It is loud.”

Hanzo glanced up to find Satya’s own eyes flick to the ground. He hummed in gentle agreement.

“It is difficult to get used to.”

Satya sighed, relenting.

“It is more than difficult. It is loud, and it is chaotic, and everybody is so different. Nobody agrees on anything, and they all bicker, and none of them _listen_. And yet somehow, they all get along so well, and work together as a team, and I…” She cut the sentence off abruptly, choosing to take another sip of her tea. She didn’t want Hanzo to know how that sentence ended, that much was obvious, however with his previous conversation with Hana plaguing the back of his mind, he thought that maybe, he already knew.

“You don’t understand,” he said. “You don’t understand, and you wish you did.”

Satya scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I do not wish—”

“You do not need to explain,” Hanzo interrupted, corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. He stood up from his seat, reaching for the cup on his end of the table. “Overwatch is a difficult environment. Everybody here has lived their lives by their own sets of rules, and opinions can differ, from something as little as how someone likes their tea to something as significant as their ideas of what’s right and what’s wrong. But we remember that, despite our different circumstances and experiences, we are all here for the same thing.”

Satya looked at him expectantly. “And that is?”

“We wish to do better, and be better. We wish to make the world a better place. That is why we are here.”

He held out his hand for Satya’s own mug. She hesitated, then handed it to him.

“Thank you,” she said, and whether it was for the speech or taking the mug to rinse, Hanzo didn’t know. He didn’t really mind, either. He smiled as he turned the tap on to wash the cups, then turned around. Satya raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Mei and I are here often at night, if you ever wish to join us,” he said. “We sit and talk and drink tea. It could be a nice start for you.”

Satya frowned.

“You don’t need to answer now,” Hanzo huffed a small laugh as he placed the mugs on the rack to dry. “Just come whenever you want. We are…” he hesitated, then pushed on. “We are more than just agents of Overwatch, you know. We’re more than our duties.”

He left Satya in the mess hall to finally head to bed.

The air around him was cold, but Hanzo felt calm, and content, and warm.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all for reading!!
> 
> if you wish to support me or just keep up with me, feel free to follow me on my twitter or tumblr @strwbrryklly!!


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